


Misplaced

by Omegarose



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2!ptalia, Alternate Realities, Cardverse, F/M, M/M, Magic, Multi, Polyamory, Sickness, Staged death, idk where this is going for the most part, most if this is eventual, seriously someone should probably stop me, the pain is worth it promise, there’s a lot of shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:39:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegarose/pseuds/Omegarose
Summary: Peter bit the arm that was attempting to pull him back. He ignored Denmark’s yelp of pain and Finland’s shocked gasp, taking the opportunity that the recoiled arm brought him, taking half a dozen steps forward before the grip Sweden had on his wrist restrained him. This was fine, however, he was in sight of who he needed.“The Queen of Hearts is dead!” he yelled.Gilbert’s half smile immediately fell, face going slack in shock. “Are you sure?” he demanded.“The mirror doesn’t lie.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know, none of these characters belong to me. Clearly.

Peter was silently sitting in the backseat of Sweden and Finland’s car, hands in his jacket pocket, clutching at the mirror. They were headed to the World Meeting, which was the only reason he hadn’t ran away from his caretakers to find Gilbert. He should be at the meeting. He had to be at the meeting.

His stomach twisted anxiously, heart beating rapidly. It hadn’t calmed since the night before, when Peter had first learned of the news that shattered the entire world around him. If anything it had gotten worse. Each second that passed was a second wasted, seconds that they didn’t have. 

He longed for his magic, wanting to be speak to Gilbert at the first opportunity. Of course, he could have used the phone, but Finland and Sweden would have gotten suspicious at why he was calling Prussia of all people.

“Sealand, are you alright?” Finland asked.

Peter flinched, not expecting him to address him. “Yes, Mamma. I’m fine.” His heart wilted as he spoke, realizing for the first time just how terrible everything was ending up. He would be abandoning all this...

Finland was twisted around in his seat, concern etched into his face. Sweden’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and Ladonia, too, was watching him.

“You look ill,” Ladonia commented.

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted. “Just a little carsick.”

None of them seemed to be convinced, but they let the matter be. Peter was left to go back staring pensively at his knees and contemplating the stark reality--or rather lack therefore--of his situation. Everything was changing at once, and he only had a few more hours to comprehend and plan before he would have to act.  
~~~  
Once reaching the meeting hall, Peter went over to Iceland, Denmark, and Norway along with his adoptive family. There was no point in searching aimlessly for Gilbert, it would be better to slip away and go into the meeting hall a few minutes before the meeting and breaking the news then. As the time drew nearer, however, he seemed unable to withdraw from conversation.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and instantly began to weave through the crowds of loitering people. There weren’t quite enough to completely hide him, but hopefully if the others weren’t paying attention.

“Hey, kid, the bathroom’s the other way!” Denmark called after him.

Peter caste a glance behind his shoulder, almost trying to apologize with his eyes, before turning back around and making a dash for the conference hall.

“Hey, Sealand!”

Peter ignored them, dodging around Mexico and trying to get ahead, just long enough to reach Gilbert.

“Sealand, get back here!”

He was less than a foot away from the door when they caught up to him, Iceland taking hold of his arm.

“No!” he protested, twisting and struggling away from the Nordics. He had to speak to Gilbert, it was the most important thing of that moment, more important than anything he had dealt with for what felt like centuries.

Peter bit the arm that was attempting to pull him back. He ignored Denmark’s yelp of pain and Finland’s shocked gasp, taking the opportunity that the recoiled arm brought him, taking half a dozen steps forward before the grip Sweden had on his wrist restrained him. This was fine, however, he he was in sight of who he needed.

“The Queen of Hearts is dead!” he yelled.

Gilbert was still half smiling as he turned. When he saw that it was Peter, and the words finally sunk in, his smile fell, face going slack in shock. “Are you sure?” he demanded.

“The mirror doesn’t lie.”

The nations that Gilbert had been talking too were looking at the albino in concern, the Nordics no longer attempting to restrain Peter. Everyone in the conference hall was watching the exchange, confused at what was happening.

Gilbert was up and out of his seat, taking Peter by the upper arm and dragging him (despite how willing he was to follow) down the hall within seconds. Everyone seemed too shocked to react, Finland taking two steps after them but ultimately halting. They stopped in an alcove of a door that led to an empty room, pressing close into it.

“How?” Gilbert demanded, fear lacing his voice. “And how is…how did…”

Peter understood what he was asking, having had a similar reaction the night prior. He had spent hours looking into the mirror, trying to see the world of which he came. Which both of them came.

It had been worse than he could have ever thought.

“The Mirror Plane has been getting more powerful,” he said around the painfully pressing lump in his throat. “It’s bleeding into the kingdoms, a plague like none have ever seen has spread through Hearts. Kiku was the first noble to die from it, but your brother is sick. Feliciano’s been missing for months, and Lovino is trying to run everything from Diamonds.”

Gilbert sucked in a breath, blinking fast and shaking his head slightly, as if he could deny it. “The plague is from the Mirror Plane.” he said. It was flat, bitter, resigned.

Peter nodded, the emotions he had been attempting to hold in threatening to burst over. “Yes.”

“So this is our faults.”

“...yes.”

Gilbert let out a shaky breath, dropping his head into his hands and muttering softly, “No, no, no…”

Peter bit his lips together, trying to suppress the tears that welled in his eyes. The cold from the walls seeped through his jacket, making him shiver involuntarily. “We have to get back,” he whispered. “Gilbert, we have to get back to them.”

“Sealand? What’s happening? What are you talking about?” Finland asked hesitantly, creeping down the hall towards them. The rest of the Nordics stayed behind, grouped together and staring. “How do you know Prussia?”

Peter’s breath hitched just barely, a sob he hardly held back. “I’m sorry.” He looked away, unable to see their unsettled and worried expressions. He couldn’t face them, that would be like facing how he was going to have to leave them. Uncle Denmark, Mamma, Norway, Papa, Iceland, and Ladonia. He loved them like family, even if they weren’t the ones he knew back in his old world. Not the Mathias, Tino, Lukas, Berwald, and Emil he knew, but similar. Definitely not the Elias that he…that he loved a little more than family. But he was essentially a brother in this universe. 

“Sealand?” England asked, exiting the conference room, just as concerned as everyone else in that hallway. He looked so achingly like Arthur, the big brother he had always pretended to dislike but that had looked out for him and ruffled his hair and hugged him when their grandmother died, the big brother that he loved and left-

He let out that sob that had been building since the night before, tears spilling down his cheeks, turning back to his companion. “Gilbert, please, help me find a way. We have to find a way!”

The albino’s expression wavered, mouth trembling. “I…”

Peter swiped at his eyes with his sleeve cuff, sniffing and curling back into his clothes. He didn’t want to explain this. He just wanted it to be over. He didn’t exactly want it to go back to how it was, he had missed everyone from his home too much, but it wasn’t exactly like he could just go and fix everything with a wave of his hand. He just…he just…

“We aren’t from this universe,” Gilbert explained, looking like he wanted to join in on the tears that wouldn’t stop pouring from Peter’s eyes. “I came here, accidentally, years ago. But I don’t have any magic here. I was--am--trapped. Peter, Sealand, followed me later, searching for me, but, even together…we’re stuck.”

“You expect us to believe that?” England asked, huffing out incredulously.

Gilbert shook his head, bowing it slightly. He was too close to hide his expression from Peter, who could see and recognize the pain in the lines of his mouth and the pinching of his eyes. “I know it’s crazy. I know. But…we have to get home. They’re all dying and it’s our fault so we need to get back and fix it.”

Peter caught a glimpse of Norway. He had magic, not as much as even one of the jokers had back in their world but he still had some. If he combined it with a few more people…. “Gil, if some people combine their magic--Norway, England, Romania--there might be enough.”

“Will it?” Gilbert asked him, eyes widening into what Peter could only ascribe to the hope that was curling in his own chest. “It drained us for weeks after.”

“It has to work,” Peter said firmly. “If it’s not enough, then Russia or Egypt or somebody else can lend some of their magic, but we will get home this way. It’ll have to work.”

“How do you…what you’re proposing…” England sputtered.

Peter looked to Norway pleadingly. This was the uncle that understood Peter so well, but never let on to the others. The uncle who sat beside him for one long night when he had the flu. The uncle who showed him the trolls that lived in a mountain cave a short hike away from his house. The uncle who had silently handed him a mug of hot tea whenever he was feeling sad, without ever asking what was wrong.

“I’ll help,” he said.

“England?” Peter asked. He still saw him as a brother. It was clear that he had cared for Peter, even if it hadn’t been as open as Arthur’s love for him. 

His mouth hung ajar, but he blinked and managed to say “Alright.”

“How do we begin?” Norway asked.

“Wait, wait, you’re seriously considering-this is insane!” Finland exclaimed. “You can’t just send them somewhere with magic, especially not another universe! None of this is-”

Peter turned his entire body to face his adoptive family. Finland… All he said was a soft, simple, “Mamma.”

Finland’s face crumpled, accepting their story. Sweden had his face completely blank, but Peter saw the swirling emotion behind his eyes. Iceland had shrunk half behind the others, trying to school his expression into the uncaring one that his brother always had, but coming just short. Denmark hide nothing, all confusion mixed with an odd sort of hurt. The betrayal in Ladonia’s might have been the worst, for Peter at least, with Elias’ face.

“The spell requires some ritual chalk and candles,” Gilbert said. “I have a copy of the chant and ritual, I brought it with me when I came here. I don’t have it on me, but-”

“I have one,” Peter said, pulling a nearly tattered piece of folded paper from the pocket opposite the mirror.

Gilbert nodded. “We need to hurry, before things get worse.”

“I have those things at my house,” Norway said. “It’s less than a half hour away.”

“Alright, we can go there as soon as we get Romania and-”

“Then we just need to say our goodbyes,” interrupted Peter. He knew Gilbert, he was quite like himself. They both tended to get so caught up in things that they completely forgot of the little details, like goodbyes they would have to say. The way the albino’s face fell was enough confirmation for Peter that Gilbert had overlooked that.

“Right,” he croaked. “Right after we say goodbye.”


	2. Chapter 2

The little group shuffled into the meeting hall to be greeted by the confused nations having experienced only the beginning of their little crisis. Peter stayed by his family, and Gilbert was forced to lead the explanation.

“What is going on,” Germany demanded, standing. Gilbert could tell, though, that he was worried rather than angry. “Who is this ‘Queen of Hearts’, and what is this secrecy with Sealand?”

Gilbert shook his head wordlessly, pulling Germany down into a hug. It had never mattered that the younger was taller, he was Gilbert’s younger brother and he would always pull him down to an embrace.

“B...ruder?” he asked, stumbling and hesitantly hugging back.

Gilbert squeezed tightly, forcing himself to step away. He plastered on a grin he didn’t expect anyone to be fooled by. “Me and Sealand aren’t exactly natives to this universe. We’re Jokers of the Four Kingdoms, the holders of most magic of the land we come from. I came here in an attempt to fix a weakened veil between realities and overshot a bit. Peter followed me because the veil was only weakening more and only the both of us could fix it, and then got stuck here too. Now there’s a plague that killed my brother-in-law and Queen of Hearts, Kiku, leaving his husband--my brother--on his deathbed. So me and Peter have to head back to a world I abandoned all hope of returning to centuries ago before all of our family and loved ones die.

There was a long pause that no one was breaking, everyone staring. With each eternally long second that passed Gilbert felt his smile faltering and his facade dropping. “So, uh, we’ve got to leave. Basically right now.”

Still no one made a move.

His eyes were welling up and his throat was blocked by an increasingly painful lump. “Verdammt, just let us say our goodbyes!”

“You never told anyone of this?” It was Austria, looking a mix of hurt and alarmed. 

Gilbert shuffled guiltily. “It sounds crazy.”

“You’re crazy,” Hungary inputted angrily. She marched over, punching his shoulder. He took it with no complaint, only to be surprised by the fierce embrace she attacked him with after. “Baszd meg magad,” she said, sounding at the verge of tears. “Baszd meg magad.”

Then Austria was at her side, slipping his arms around Gilbert’s middle and burying his face in his shoulder for just a moment. Then it was Lithuania, offering a brief hug and a sad smile, then Poland, then Ukraine and it was like he was getting passed around the room. He fought the tears until he was pressed up into France, his familiar warmth and scent enveloping him and he couldn’t hold back the sob that wracked through his body.

He instantly tore himself away, waving the concern and sympathy off with a furious “I’m fine” as he wiped at his eyes. 

Lastly it was Spain, with which Gilbert had to bit his tongue to avoid the same that had happened with France.

“I’ll miss you all, but, hey, it’s not like this wasn’t bound to happen soon anyways.” It was a joke about his nonexistent country, but it stung like a rusty spoon. 

Germany had never been good at hiding his emotions, no matter how stoic he usually appeared, just like Ludwig. It was all in their eyes. Those eyes were like words blossoming across a page in real time, easy to read and impossible to miss.

Gilbert laughed in a way that was pained. “See ya, kleiner bruder. You’ll need to step up and take care of both halves all by yourself, now.”

The younger man surprised Gilbert by pulling him into a bruising hug. “Dummkopf,” he muttered so quiet it might not have been meant to be heard.

“Gil, we need to go,” Peter said from the door. He had obviously just been crying more, his family looking worse for the wear. The other micronations had come in at one point and all said goodbye to him as well, and Gilbert could tell that Peter was attempting to avoid eye contact with the alternate versions of his significant others. “It’s...I just looked. The borders of Clubs and Diamonds are showing early signs of the sickness…”

Gilbert straightened, giving the room a military salute as a final farewell. The entire room mimicked it back.

~~

Gilbert sat in the back of England’s rented car, trying to ignore the cloying silence that both England and Romania had adapted. They were following behind Norway, who drove Peter and Egypt--having volunteered to add his magic.

They pulled onto a gravel drive that wound up the hill that Norway’s house sat on top of, parking and climbing out only to make faces at the biting autumn cold. A grey and snow covered mountain rose behind the house, as the hill they were on was actually the higher foothills that led up to the towering behemoth.

Gilbert saw Peter, curled up in a just-a-little-too-big windbreaker, standing farther than comfortable away from everyone. 

“Everything is in the basement,” Norway said, walking towards his house. The rest of the group followed him, in an awkward silence that seemed to press down on all of them. The basement was plain concrete, clean and empty besides the metal shelves lining the walls.

“So, uh, how are we supposed to do this?” Romania asked, shifting a bit uncomfortably from side to side.

Gilbert stepped closer to the shelving against the wall, examining what they had to work with. He whistled lowly, mildly desperate to relieve the tension. “This is a nice stockpile. Not quite as big as ours back home, but I suppose that was generations of collectors.”

Peter seemed unsurprised at the content of the basement, most likely having been down there before. He perked up at the tone Gilbert took and playfully snapped back, “Well, what did you expect from your mentor? She was a borderline hoarder.”

England nearly visibly flinched at the teasing, rocked, it seemed, by the jump from somber to happy.

Gilbert chuckled, revelling in the banter he and Peter used to fall into and hadn’t had a chance to for far too long, ignoring England. It had been awhile since he had had a conversation so comfortable. “Don’t disrespect her, she’ll come back from the grave and smack you upside the head.”

Peter bounced over, helping him rummage through the shelving. “It was only you she would smack around. She loved me.”

“That was only ‘cause you were a cute, chubby little kid. Ha! Here we go!” he crowed triumphantly, holding the ritual chalk up. Peter jumped, trying to see onto a shelf just a little taller than he was.

“Miss the extra two inches puberty gave you?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Peter pouted as the albino got the box of herbs down from that shelf. “I still got more action than you.”

“Oooh, harsh coming from a teenager,” Gilbert teased.

“Hey, I got three people to commit. You got-”

“Five regulars, and quite a few others willing to give it a go.”

“Don’t talk about your dick like that,” Peter pleaded, making a pulled face. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

Gilbert cackled, setting the container on a nearby table to rifle through. “Hey, Norwegan, do you have an incense burner anywhere? This patchouli and rosemary will make a good focusing energy.”

“Don’t forget the sage,” Peter chirped.

Gilbert snapped. “Right, thanks, kid. So, Norway?”

The four nations remained stood at the bottom of the steps. Romania was antsier than ever, England appeared to be at a loss for words, and Norway’s expression was unreadable. Egypt, though blank-faced, was the first to react by pulling an incense pipe from his bag and wordlessly handing it over.

“Er...what the actual hell,” England said, slashing a hand through the air as if to dismiss Egypt’s motion. “Sealand...you’re supposed to be older? How is it that your family and friends are all still alive despite centuries spent here, Prussia? How long have you two known each other? And what in the name of God do you mean ‘three people to commit’?”

Gilbert snorted, taking the proffered pipe from Egypt and starting to stuff it so the focusing of their magical energies could begin. “One, do you really think I was a child when I figured out how to travel through universes? No, I wasn’t. I was twenty when I came over, reverted to a child’s body by who-knows-what. There’s a definite difference in the passage of time, hardly any passed as I grew as a nation. By the time Peter showed up only two years had gone by in our world.”

“I was almost sixteen when I tried to follow Gil, but I definitely have mentally as well as physically been reduced to a twelve year old,” Peter additionally explained. He jumped in for Gilbert in answering the next question. “I met Gilbert when the Mark of the Kingdoms appeared on my brother’s cheek. I had the Joker’s J--which disappeared in coming here--and he was the Queen of Spades. So him, the rest of our siblings and I went to the castle where Gil was waiting with the two prior Jokers who came to collect me. I was-”

“An adorable little baby. Hardly older than five,” Gilbert interjected with a teasing coo, pinching Peter’s cheek. Gilbert watched as England’s expression morph into confusion as Peter let this happen, Norway’s barely noticeably rose his eyebrows, Romania tilted his head at the affection, and Egypt watched intently. 

“And you were a pimply awkward twelve year old,” Peter retaliated, pushing at Gilbert’s side.

He gave what he knew must be an incredulous look. “There is no way you remember that.”

 

“No,” Peter countered. “But you never completely stopped being awkward, even when that acne cleared up. Besides, I can sort of remember Ludwig, and you two are practically identical. Other than the grey hair, of course.”

Gilbert dramatically gasped, putting his hand to his chest. It didn’t offend him all that much (he was used to it from Peter and as good natured teasing through his life) but it was like pulling out the big guns. “And to think I help raise such a heartless monster.”

“Whatever, jerk,” Peter grunted as he struggled to get out of the headlock Gilbert pulled him into. “We should probably get started on-”

Norway said rather blandly, though Gilbert sensed the teasing torture of an older family member in the way his eyebrow curved, “You never gave us that last answer.”

Peter was obviously embarrassed, much to Gilbert’s delight. “It’s unimportant.”

“Is it really, though. Last time you talked about them you acted like they hung the stars,” Gilbert ribbed.

“Uh...I don’t remember that.” Peter tried backing away, but there was only so far he could go until he was trapped between Gilbert’s arm and the shelves.

England was intrigued. “Do tell us who these mysterious people are.”

“Oh, you know them,” Gilbert laughed. “Come’on, Petey darling. Or I could just say it myself….”

“I’ll do it!” Peter exclaimed, cheeks flaming red. He paused for a second before saying in one rushing breath, “I’vebeendatingWendyEliasandHugosinceIwasthirteen. Happy now?”

“Slower,” Gilbert coached, smirking. “And do give their alternate selves’ name.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much,” he grumbled. “Fine, I’ve been….I’ve been dating Wendy, Elias, and Hugo since we were all thirteen. The people that are basically just different versions of them on this world is...is…”

“Wy, Ladonia, and Kugelmugel, respectively,” Gilbert said given Peter’s long and rather dramatic pause.

“Gil!” he protested, smacking at his arm with little force all while trying to scrunch up to avoid the surprise on his relatives’ faces. “They’re gonna think I’m some sort of creep! I’m related to two of them in this universe!”

Gilbert ruffled his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Come’on, kid we need to get a move on. You were always better at this than me, so start drawing the symbol.”

“Aye, aye!”

They worked at blistering speeds, everything coming natural despite the years spent without practice. The four nations began helping as soon as they processed and got over their confusion and shock at the strange new aspects of Peter and Gilbert’s personalities. In less than twenty minutes, everything was finished.

“It’s ready,” Peter said, quietly, the five regarding each other as their tasks were completed.

Gilbert gave him a sympathetic look. He wasn’t that close to these four, not enough to warrant tears and embraces.

Peter shut his eyes for a second, like he was asking for strength, turning to Norway. He hugged him tightly around the middle, and Norway wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hugged back. Peter stood up on tiptoes to whisper “I’ll miss you” to his uncle.

He looked to England.

“I-” England’s voice cracked and he covered it by clearing his throat. He awkwardly held out his arms and Peter barreled into them. He clung to him tight for a few seconds. England, clearly startled, returned the embrace until Peter stepped back.

Gilbert offered a wryly sort of half smile to the four nations. “It’s been fun. Now, please send us home.”

The positioning was simple enough, the chant was easily known, and within minutes the sigils drawn on the floor were glowing and the smoky air was swirling in a whirlwind around the room. The four nations droned together, sounding emotionless and unhuman. Their looks hardly matched, though. Romania was watching Gilbert with mournful eyes, no doubt reminiscing of their time trapped under the USSR. Norway was hardly moving his mouth, jaw clenching, staring at Peter like he was memorizing his features. England’s eyes were shining and he was avoiding any eye contact. Egypt, even though he had no ties, had a soft sort of sympathy rounding over his features.

There was a jerk, and the two were gone from the universe they never meant to be in.

Gilbert wanted to cough, but there was no oxygen for him to. It was like a reverse of what had happened to him getting to this universe; a vacuum sucking him through the tiniest of spaces, spinning him what felt like mostly up. There was nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to touch. It was disconcerting, feeling no rush of air or clamp of pressure to go along with the twisting feeling in his stomach and the cramping of his body.

He landed with a thump, gasping and hacking.

All of his senses were back, aware of Peter beside him wheezing, and of grass beneath his hands and knees, and of pine scented, fresher air than he had breathed in what felt like ages. 

That wasn’t what captured him, however. It was the sudden influx of magic filling his body, trickling down his neck and pooling in his fingertips, building up pressure so deliciously intense but never threatening to break. This feeling was one he hadn’t had in so long, the one that he hadn’t realized just how much he missed. There was a feeling of rightness, too.

He had nearly forgotten what it felt like to feel at peace with his surroundings, to not feel like everything was just slightly wrong and he didn’t belong.

Peter’s laugh bubbled up next to him, fairy lights dancing around his head, and Gilbert knew he felt the same.

They were finally home.

\--

Translations, in order of appearance:

Bruder - brother (German)  
Verdammt - goddamnit (German)  
Baszd meg magad - go fuck yourself (Hungarian)  
Kleiner bruder - little brother (German)  
Dummkopf - idiot (German)  
Norwegan - Norway (German)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on publishing this way sooner but got caught up in Hamilton and Voltron and cute UsUk fics. 
> 
> I also added, like, three pages so I hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> So like this was my first fic posted on this site. I think it’s good?? Please comment, they make my day!


End file.
